


One: Look through a mood ring

by faun_songs



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen, and generally jack n carl being assholes, brooklyn bullies, tw for mild homophobic comments, whats new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 02:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13203930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faun_songs/pseuds/faun_songs
Summary: this is one of those pieces where the less you know going in, the better





	One: Look through a mood ring

**Author's Note:**

> This spring me and @equinexia on tumblr went back and fort on a idea for my creative writing class and although I didn't end up using this scenario, I absolutely adored the story that came out of it. I'm drawn to the unreliable narrator trope and decided to try my hand at it :) Much much thanks to them for the ideas and the beta-reading!
> 
> Jack and Carl are OCs from my #brooklyn bullies AU.

“I can’t believe they’re hosting the tournament in the middle of Nowhere, PA.”-grumbled Jack, twining and untwining the cord of his earbuds, in a nervous tick. Carl, slouched in the bus seat next to him and paying little attention to the incessant complaints of his debate partner, kept his eyes on his phone and half-heartedly sliced another watermelon on “Fruit Ninja”.

“Debate with the organizers about it when we get there…”

Jack gave an annoyed huff and looked at the pamphlet they were given (and which he had read at least 5 times just today). His anxiety didn’t fare well with having to switch multiple vehicles to an unfamiliar destination; he almost hated Carl’s laid-back nature at this moment. He sat back and, having mentally re-charted the route they had to take to the lodgings in the forest, he stared at the digital clock where the driver’s seat was.

\---

 

The place wasn’t as bad as Jack had feared – well-kept bungalows fenced the meadow on both sides, with the Main Hall rising at the far end. His stomach churned at the thought of the debates which would take place there tomorrow afternoon, even though he and Carl had prepared for weeks. His nerves longed for the serenity that came with alcohol and – judging by the careful way some of the other students were cradling their duffel bags – his team wasn’t the only one sneaking booze in. The welcoming party was shaping up to be better than expected.

\---

The night blended into a nice buzz of lights, music and tipsy smalltalk. Jack was content with dozing in a corner, waiting out the dwindling party and crashing on his bed when the organizers decided to shoo them away. Carl, however, had other plans. He was dragging Jack out, looking ahead and talking excitedly; all Jack could catch was ‘explore’ and ‘forest’, which didn’t terribly excite him, but he fell prey to Carl’s loud accusations of him being a chicken, so he just trod on. He almost crashed in his friend when Carl abruptly slowed down, attention drawn to the cigarette a man had just left perched on the railing and turned around to speak with someone. Carl deftly took it and grinned at Jack, taking a deep drag.  He passed it to his friend, delighting in the pure joy that painted Jack’s face when he breathed it in. He found Jack’s idea to quit smoking right before the tournament frankly ridiculous, and had already suffered his doubled crankiness the whole bus ride.

“God bless someone thought of smuggling some cigarettes” – he remarked. Jack hummed in agreement, eyes on the black expanse of the forest behind the rooftops of the bungalows. It made him feel tiny, something which rarely happened with his 6’2”, and filled him with a sense of awe, blooming in his chest. Carl turned the flashlight on his phone as they snuck to the back of the bungalows, where the lights hardly reached. Jack’s hairs stood on end and he willed himself to focus on Carl’s rambling instead of staring at the black hollows between the slightly lighter tree trunks. Carl’s massive forearm hitting his chest in a halting gesture did the job for him.

“Holy fuck, Jackie………Look at this!”

Jack squinted at the bright desaturated circle the phone was illuminating, the green grass and white mushrooms blending together under the artificial light – “Yeah, what? Mushrooms grow on the ground and not the supermarket, call the news.” Jack was growing tired and annoyed, and a smidgen on edge because however you put it, wandering away from civilization and lights and into the outskirts of the forest at night was setting off all kinds of alarms in his head. Carl was like a child on Christmas.

“Dude, that’s a fairy ring. It’s a fairy ring if I ever saw one” – he gestured with his hand, tracing the oval shape in the air for Jack to see. “I told you about the faefolk when we were little, remember? My Irish grandma had me in goosebumps every time she spoke of ‘em!” Carl circled it, kneeling down gingerly, and gazing up at his friend. “You remember that, right?”. His voice rose in pitch with his excitement.

Jack shrugged, crossing his arms stiffly, and looked back at the bungalows: “Yeah like….don’t take stuff from them ‘n shit…Basically don’t fuck with them”. He was shuffling uncomfortably, not really in the mood for fireside stories with no fire and a lot of dark forest that creeped him out. He was taut enough for Carl to keep adding to it.

“Carl, quit messing around and let’s go home. We need to sleep.”

Carl stood up again, waving him off – “This is the _coolest_ shit, Jackie, a fairy ring! It’s where they dance at night or something, and whatever disturbs it will piss them off” He leaned closer, whispering “-and you don’t want to piss fairies off, cause they’re vindictive to _boot_ ”. Carl lunged forward to grab Jack’s arm when he turned to walk away, making him jump. “C’mon don’t be a chicken, I’m just joking around. Fairies got no business in America, it’s not like they boarded a ship or something.”. His laughter was merry, annoyingly merry and playful, and Jack grew more and more agitated

 “Let me go, dumbass, I want to go back.” – he tried to pull away, yanking his arm. “I said let me go!” he said a lot louder, straining away and stumbling back when Carl suddenly loosened his grip. Jack fired up, his apprehension boiling into anger, and shoved Carl hard. The tall ginger man with a barrel chest was typically hard to move, but his inebriation and Jack’s fear-fueled adrenaline made him stagger back a step. He was still smiling, but there was a glimmer in his eyes now. He dashed forward, kneeling a bit and wrapping his arms around Jack’s middle. Hoisting him up was no trouble – he weighed nothing to Carl. Jack thrashed and yelled at the other man, not really caring how he looked. He was scared and angry – at Carl for filling his head with this nonsense, at himself for letting him get under his skin.

Carl unceremoniously dropped him in the middle of the fairy ring in a gale of laugher. Jack panicked, crushing more mushrooms than he already had with his flailing. He erupted in indignant outrage, hurrying to get out of the ring.

The crackle of floorboards was enough to pierce through Jack’s rant. He fell suddenly silent, eyes locked on the bungalow whose lights had just gone on. Carl was bending over for his phone he had dropped while Jack had twisted in his arms; and he missed the frightening silhouette that passed across the window frame. Jack’s heart was in his throat, his mind struggling to comprehend what he saw – too oddly proportioned, with a crown of prongs protruding from its head. A second later, two men came out on the little porch encircling the bungalow, so human and so jarringly _ordinary_ in their pajamas and dressing-gowns; down to the sleepy anger in their features.

“Won’t you fucking quit it?? It’s one thirty for god’s sake!”

The smaller guy, five foot nothing, blond and wiry, kept grousing on. Jack’s gaze moved to the other one, much bigger than his roommate, long curly hair tied up in a messy bun. His stare wasn’t as fiery as his friend’s but it didn’t make Jack feel any better.

“Let’s go back inside, Steve. They’re drunk.”

His level, gentle voice seemed to take some heat out of blondie’s temper, and they both went around the bungalow to the door in front. Jack saw them passing across the window, their frames dark against the pale beige of the curtains. They merged in a shapeless amalgam for a second, then separated again and the lights went out.

“ _God_ , I forgot how uptight debate kids usually are. Killjoys.” – Carl murmured, heading to their own bungalow. Jack followed, heart still hammering. He was calling back the images he had seen, the thing that was in the house before the guys came out.  
He gritted his teeth and shook his floppy fringe out of his eyes. This was stupid. He couldn’t believe himself – he had been genuinely frightened for a moment that the fairies were coming for them because he stepped in the middle of a ring of mushrooms. It was _laughable_.

He smacked the back of Carl’s head and stomped ahead, deaf to his grumbling. All he needed was to sleep the alcohol out of his system, and concentrate on the debates. It was just for a week.

\---

“What are you looking at?” – Carl had the absolute inability to respect someone’s personal space, grabbing Jack’s tablet out of his hands. “Oh my god are you looking fairies up for real?? Jackie, I was messing with you last night, I swear.”  
“Give it _back_.” – Jack was embarrassed and annoyed. He had hours to kill and anxiety to distract before 1400, when the debates began, so he had taken to Google. All throughout the night, he had twisted and turned, restless sleep filled with either of the men he had seen turning into the monstrous silhouette.

“’How to check if fairies are following you….’” – read Carl aloud, holding the tablet out of reach – “’One: Look through a mood ring, it reveals their true form’ Oh, sweet, I can ask the girls if they have one; great icebreaker” – he giggled, playfully swatting Jack’s reaching arms away. “’Two: Cross running water, fairies can’t follow you’ Jack, _you’re_ afraid of water yourself. Should I start suspecting you? Nah, you’re too ugly for that.”

Jack twisted his mouth, cheeks reddening at his friend’s jabs. He _knew_ it was ridiculous. In the morning light, the building two bungalows down the row seemed much different, normal, with two students sitting on the porch and drinking tea in silence. He made up his mind to forget about it; and in the meanwhile win back his tablet before Carl got further down his browsing history.

Didn’t stop him from asking around at lunchtime, though. He vaguely knew a few of the other duos from the IT and Maths departments, and their best guess was that those two might be from the Arts.

“I actually overheard them arguing with the supervisors yesterday afternoon, at registration. They weren’t on the list and there was a big fuss over it. They let them stay while they figure out the paperwork, I think.”– said Sam between chewing. She looked up at Jack, inquisitive – “Why are you so interested in them anyway?”

Jack leaned back on his chair, fiddling with his fork and mumbling a noncommittal excuse. No matter how he tried to parse it in his mind, it sounded paranoid and ludicrous. It happened, right? People’s papers got lost in the bureaucratic flurry. Just because they were virtually unaccounted for, didn’t mean they were necessarily supernatural beings.  
His stomach had already shrunk with anxiety over the debates, so he excused himself and lifted his almost untouched plate, going up to Carl, who was overtly trying to flirt with a girl from the Classics dept. The relief in the girl’s eyes made him laugh as they were heading back to their bungalow to dress up properly.

The first round went down unremarkably, and in a blur. It was interrupted only by Carl leaning in, quietly asking who Jack was looking around for. He was notoriously attentive at the worst moments, thought Jack with his face hot, and pointedly ignored his snickering. The two guys were nowhere to be seen.

They did appear at dinnertime, though. They were sitting a few seats down the table, pleasantly chatting with some kids Jack recognized from the theatre group. It’s not like he was eavesdropping, but he overheard that the big guy’s name is James. He had let his hair down, loose curls bouncing on his shoulders as he laughed, smiling with his eyes.

“Quit staring, Romeo” – Carl’s elbow jabbed him in the ribs and Jack grimaced at him. “Oh god, he’s looking at you, don’t turn around” – hissed Carl, but Jack’s head had already whipped around. Cheeky laughter was still dancing on the corners of James’ mouth, grey eyes creased with mirth. He looked like he was about to say something, when his friend tapped on his forearm. James turned to him, then followed his pointing hand. A girl was holding a bread basket, repeating her question at James:  
  
“Would you like some?”  
  
His smile was apologetic: “No, but thank you.” James looked at Steve and back at her: “Allergies, yanno.” She nodded and was about to draw her offering hand back, when Steve reached out and snatched a piece. James’ gaze wandered towards Jack again, and he quickly looked away, pretending to talk to Carl. His stomach was tying in knots and he didn’t know why.

\---

He did know why.

“Carl?”

His partner hummed in answer.

“Are you listening to me?”

Carl groaned and rolled around in his bed, facing him.  “Yes, Prince of mine, you have my undivided attention.” Jack pursed his lips, butterflies under his breastbone, then looked down at his hands. There it goes.

“I think that big guy we pissed off the first evening is a fairy.”

Carl levelled a look at him. “Duh”. Jack’s belly sank, eyebrows arching. His friend shrugged “I saw him being lovey-dovey with blondie this morning. Don’t have to be rude about it, tho. It’s 2017 and all.”

Jack groaned and rubbed at his face furiously. “Sarah ain’t around, you don’t have to pretend you are PC.” Carl made a face at him, then grinned. Jack propped on his elbow: “No you don’t _get_ it, I don’t mean it like that. A real one, like those from the fairytales”

Carl pursed his lips, holding back the smile. “A _real_ one, like those from the _fairytales_ ” – he repeated slowly, raising his left eyebrow – “Jackie, are you still onto this shit?”

Sitting up straighter in his bed, Jack persisted – “I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t have evidence, Carl, like, to start off—“

Carl interrupted him “Like?? Oh, like the time he refused bread cause fairies hate that-pardon, cause he had an intolerance. Oh wait, it’s the time he came to haunt your ass when you messed with his fairy ring----oops no, it was just a sleepy boring ol’ guy who was mad at us for being loud after midnight. Should I go on or do you see the span of your paranoia?”

Jack clammed up, overcome by the memory of their first night here. So it must’ve been James, the monster in the bungalow. Which left for Steve to be human and that was somehow even more unsettling. Did he know who James _really_ was?

“Hello, Earth to stronzo. I know you get weird when you’re stressed, by lord, you having finals stresses me more than MY finals. But you’re being silly. I don’t get your obsession with him. Or maybe I do and the fairy charms got you.” Carl suggestively raised his eyebrows at him, snorted and turned around.  

Jack told him off and turned around himself, jaw working. The adrenaline was draining out of his system, leaving him bone-tired. Everything had a reasonable explanation, even what he saw that night. He was drunk and scared, right? People need less to see all kinds of odd shit. It was easier to assume Carl was right, it was less frightening than the alternative. He nestled down in his bed, thumbing aimlessly through his phone. Tomorrow was the last day of the tournament anyway, then they would split up with the other contestants and go home.

\---

The group set off early in the morning. As they were hiking up in the forest, a few of them stayed a bit behind, taking photos and enjoying the slower pace. Another three rushed ahead, after becoming too jittery trying to wait the others out. Carl joined them after a couple of minutes, to talk to one of the girls (and hoping to get her FB).

The path was somewhat narrow, so they had to mostly walk in a line of one. Jack found this even more disheartening, because there was no one to tear him out of his endless bemoaning (he hated bugs and he felt itchy all over and the ground was uneven and he was tired and---). Besides, he was bored out of his skull. He could make out Carl far ahead, gesticulating excitedly. Which is why he probably didn’t see the rock he tripped over and almost fell. He steadied himself and waved at the people behind him to signal he’s fine.

Well, almost fine. He hadn’t slept all that well last night, plagued by intense nightmares of running from something. And now all the walking had depleted most of his energy, which wasn’t much to begin with because he couldn’t eat early in the morning and all he had drank since he woke up was a cup of watery coffee. Swallowing thickly, he patted at the side of his rucksack, looking for his water bottle. His chest tightened when all he touched was the empty soft mesh of the side-pocket. Jack unhooked one shoulder of his backpack and twisted it to the front to see if it wasn’t inside. His eyes were darting between the trail and the backpack, as he was rummaging in it furiously.

“Fuck” – he drawled out, remembering where it was. He had taken it alright, but Carl had forgotten _his_ so they had to share. And the damned skirt-chaser had taken it with himself when he went up ahead.  
The sharp motion of him swinging his rucksack back on both shoulders sent him staggering again, knees buckling. He heard someone calling out and a strong hand helped him up.

“Hey bud, you ok?” – Jack’s heart skipped a beat. He knew that tender baritone – “You don’t look that well to me.”

Jack shimmied to pull away, turning around to look at James. His braid had come undone a little, but save for that the hike didn’t seem to affect him at all. His companion, in contrast, was quite winded out, cheeks splotchy with redness. Jack looked like death warmed over.

He hadn’t noticed they three had formed a group, and he didn’t like it. He couldn’t see the group behind them at all. His eyes returned to James when he waved a hand in front of his face to get his attention:

“Do you have water? You should drink some, your lips are cracked.”

Jack swallowed again, throat parched. He was going to kill Carl when (or if) he caught up with him. He mumbled an “I’m fine” and tried to get back on the track.

“You can have mine, if you forgot yours?” – James reached down to his belt, ready to unhook the bottle. Jack was so thirsty, he thought he might faint.

“Don’t take anything from this guy, trust me. He’s trying to charm you” – Steve caught up with them, wheezing a bit, but managing a playful smile – “He used the exact same move on me when we first met” – he whispered in a mock-conspiratory tone – “Save yourself while you can.”. It was supposed to be a joke, but it made Jack profoundly uneasy.

James looked at Steve with fond annoyance, and rebutted. Steve picked up the banter and gently nudged his friend. Jack left them bicker lovingly, and trod up the path. His guts were twisting with dread, cold sweat running down his back. He had tried to ignore the nagging thought at the back of his mind, but the things Steve had said had fanned the fire to catastrophic proportions. Panic made his labored breathing even more uneven and the headache muddied his thoughts. Don’t accept anything from a fairy, not even a sip. That’s what Carl had said. How convenient it had shaped up, no one would suspect a thing – an ordinary guy offering water to a thirsty fellow. And Steve’s cryptic words----

He could hear James and Steve call after him, but he just picked up the pace, determined to meet up with Carl. It shouldn’t be that long up, he just had to hold out a bit more, anything to get away from those two. Was Steve one of the humans James had lulled in? Is this why they were together? Steve didn’t look odd or –god, his legs felt like lead– or act odd, he didn’t exactly seem like a trapped human doing a fairy’s bidding. Black circles started dancing at the periphery of Jack’s vision, but he didn’t relent. He could see Carl, maybe he could call out for him to wait. If anything, _James_ seemed to trail around blondie, spoiling him, tending to him. Was it too outlandish to believe Steve _outsmarted_ him? Bested a fairy. That was--- that was something.  Oh, he could imagine, imagine Carl’s face when he told him……..told him th-

Jack collapsed in the middle of the trail like a sack of potatoes. His overstrained body finally gave out and he passed out.

Blinking awake was so painful. Light was dancing right above him in irregular spots, too bright, too much. His eyes traced a loopy line, taking in the picture slowly trickling in. The canopy looked alien, oversaturated and dewy, like the leaves would melt any second now. The thought bothered him, a primitive part of his brain sounding the alarms but it was cottoned under layers and layers of haziness. What shook him out of the stupor was the realization that he was not on the trail anymore, and the sight of James to his left. Jack tried to speak, to move, but all that came out was a weak moan. Terror crawled up his body, from his chest to his scalp, suffocating him; just like when you were lucid dreaming, aware of the danger, but completely immobile and helpless.

“Oh good, you’re awake. You scared the life out of me.”

The voice came from his right, and Steve swam into vision. It appeared he had been patting Jack’s cheeks for some time now, but he had felt nothing.

“Relax, buddy, you just passed out cold. We carried you to the side. It’s ok.” – Steve rummaged behind himself and fetched his water bottle, unscrewing the cap. He cradled Jack’s nape with one hand, lifting him slightly up, and rested the rim of the bottle on his bottom lip. Overcome with relief – and horrifying thirst to be honest – Jack parted his lips and drank, and drank, and drank. After a couple of minutes, he was helped up in a sitting position, and he rested his forehead on his knees to ward off the nausea. Steve was rubbing small circles on his back, rambling nonsense to keep him present.

Jack insisted on getting up after a five, hearing the noises of the upcoming tail-group and hating the idea of them seeing him weak and on the ground. The duo protested, but supported him up nonetheless. He rushed to say his thanks as he was getting up, when a wave of dizziness that almost made him black out again washed over him. Jack looked at Steve for a visual anchor to stop the world from spinning, and all he could see was the guy smiling back as a ‘no problem’.

The problem was, though, that human teeth weren’t that sharp.

Jack’s knees gave out again, blind terror and confusion blooming in his chest. Steve’s face crumpled in worry, and he reached out to steady him. He was speaking – Jack didn’t comprehend a thing – all he could focus on were the dull rounded teeth that peeked behind Steve’s lips as he talked. Jack’s tongue traced his own, so painfully human and normal. Like Steve’s.

The others finally caught up with them and, seeing that some of them were too tired to go forth, they agreed to take Jack with them back to the premises. The walk back was mostly silent; everyone was too tired to talk anyway. As soon as Jack’s fingers stopped shaking too badly, he fetched his phone and – praying for a signal – sent Carl a message.

“avoid the fairies take nothing from them im srs”

The few minutes it took him to reply were excruciating.

“You’re a nutcase.  
They just told me what happened.  
 You were so out of it  
 Did the birds talk to you as well??”

\---

Carl hadn’t spoken to him at all since they reunited, save for the rough tenderness of dragging him to the medic on site to get him checked. Jack could see he felt bad for taking the bottle carelessly with him and being partly to blame for the situation. But he could also see the simmering impatience, exasperation and anger. Carl wasn’t the one to give the silent treatment and that worried Jack the most.

He blew up after dinner, when they were walking back to the bungalow.

“Tell me you didn’t almost get yourself killed because you didn’t want to take water from a “fairy”” – he barely suppressed his booming voice – “You got bruises and a split eyebrow cause of this! I can tolerate your conspiracy theories and stuff, but this is too much”. Carl was shaking with emotion, freckles disappearing in the rising heat in his cheeks. “I damn myself thrice for telling you those stupid stories; I never, in my wildest dreams, suspected you’d believe them to _that_ extent. You are always in my hair for being dumb and reckless but look at you, Mr. Logic!”

Jack let him rant, let him try to deal with emotions he couldn’t wrangle. He wanted to bask in Carl’s hamfisted doting and forget everything. He was still weak; ashamed and feeling ridiculous, too tired from thinking, and thinking, and thinking.  And yet.

“You weren’t there, Carl, you didn’t hear what the short one was saying.” Jack raised his voice, trying to drown out Carl’s protests. “Just like you didn’t see what I saw that night, there was something in their bungalow and it wasn’t human.”

Carl stared at him with pity and confused disappointment. 

“Jack, you oughta see one of those shrinks when we go back home. If stress is making you see stuff, and obsess over things this much, it’s just not good for you.”

Jack wanted to scream. The open tenderness and care in Carl’s voice were heart-rendering and quite shocking, but his complete inability to not see the truth was driving him up the wall. Why wouldn’t he see, why wouldn’t he believe?! It was so plain and evident.

“Carl, I’m _telling_ you, I’m not making shit up, one or both are fairies---“

Carl roared and it stopped Jack dead in his tracks.

“FUCKING _HELL_ , FOR THE LAST TIME-- FAIRIES AIN’T REAL!!”

“Bold words, buddy.”

Jack and Carl whipped their heads to the side, staring at their bungalow. James and Steve were perched on either side of the entrance to the porch, idly swinging their legs.

Cold sweat covered Jack, making his skin tingle and feel uncomfortably tight. For a moment, the world swam around him and he swayed. Carl’s palm rested between his shoulderblades.

“Very funny…” – he forced out, not as nonchalantly as he had gone for. The tremble in his voice scared Jack more than anything.

It was met with Steve’s toothy smile: pinprick chompers and cold mirth. The shadows the couple was casting were petrifying – branching into a crown of prongs, obscenely distorted along the slant of the bungalow walls. Jack had never been sorrier for being right.

“We hardly ever see such intuitive humans like this one there” – hummed James, nodding towards Jack – “Though if it hadn’t been for you, he would’ve never gotten involved with us. How does that make you feel?”

Carl looked around, hoping to wake up, hoping for someone to come over. But it was like people didn’t even notice them, didn’t notice the moonflowers blooming in James’ hair, or Steve’s feral smile.

“What do you want? What do you want for Jack?”

Steve and James looked at each other, and burst in laughter. Carl shifted uneasily, fingers tightening on Jack’s shoulder, who looked like he was sentenced to death.

“It’s endearing, how you think you got something to bargain…” –crooned James, leaning forward – “A tip from a fairy”- he paused, methodically pulling out a packet of cigarettes and placing one between his lips. He patted his pockets for the lighter, his eyes daring back towards Carl.

“Watch out who you are stealing from.”


End file.
